


Bah Humbug

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: Christmas can be a complicated holiday, especially when your memories of Christmas don't match the holly, jolly impression most people have of the season.





	1. McCree

Stockings hung? Check.

Lights strung? Check.

Cocoa warmed, cookies made, and candy canes purchased? Check, check, and double check.

No one, and seriously, _no one_ would be able to accuse the Overwatch headquarters of being lax in their holiday decorating. Since the reestablishment of the floundering organization, Winston and Tracer had taken a much more active role in Human Relations, which was odd, considering one of them wasn’t exactly human himself. Still, most of the heroes seemed to appreciate it.

Most of them.

As a piece of tinsel came loose from a doorframe, Jesse McCree grabbed at it with one hand, crumpling it into a ball before making a face. He’d suffered in silence while Tracer had eagerly dashed through the facility, humming Christmas songs out of tune while roping everyone else into her unnatural good cheer. He could understand her excitement, and even Winston’s seasonal eagerness, and maybe Genji’s participation wasn’t _entirely_ unusual, but to see Jack-sorry, “Soldier 76”-and even Ana Amari humoring these newcomers stuck in Jesse’s craw. They were professionals, dangnabbit, and professionals did not sit around planning _Christmas parties_.

With the tinsel still in one hand, Jesse moved to the utilitarian kitchen, batting away the garland perched on the tiny preparation island. The sorry-looking tinsel ended up in the waste disposal unit, whirring merrily as if it, too, sensed the season, and he finally turned to grab himself a decent cup of coffee before finding Angela waiting for him.

“Mercy”, right. Because they all needed these codenames now. As if Blackwatch hadn’t been bad enough, now _Jack_ was in on this codename nonsense.

“Jesse. Seems we had the same idea!” With a smile, Angela handed him a cup already full of coffee, a peppermint stick poking out of the dark liquid. Jesse did his best to be civil-really, he did try-but plucked out the peppermint to let it follow the tinsel into dark oblivion. Angela’s smile fell, if only slightly, and she leaned back against one counter to watch him more closely. “Right, you don’t like sugar in your coffee. Sorry, I…forgot.”

“Seems t’ be a lot of ‘forgettin’ around here lately.” Jesse sipped at the coffee, treasuring the warmth, and met her eyes after she continued watching him. “What? I got somethin’ in my teeth?”

“No, it’s not that. You seem…off.” She noted, her smile disappearing into a more thoughtful expression. “Did Winston give you an assignment? You haven’t been around much lately.”

“Mmm. Not quite.”

“You should have gone with the others today. The tree’s up, in the village, and they’re doing some shopping. We’ve all been cooped up in here too long.”

“Why didn’t you go, then? Seems like just your thing.” Jesse shook his head, turning to open the pantry before finding the bread. Remaining where she was, Angela shrugged, following him with her eyes.

“I plan ahead more than they do. I don’t have anything more to buy.”

“Still. Could’ve gone just for the ‘experience’.” Rifling through condiments, Jesse began preparing himself a sandwich, his back to Angela.

“I’m expecting a call from Reinhardt later. I think he’s more lonely than he lets on, with just Torbjorn and Mei for company.”

“He’s known the dwarf for years, though. And I wouldn’t think Mei would be one t’ let him wallow.”

“You know Torbjorn doesn’t like that nickname.”

“He ain’t here t’ stop me, is he?” For the first time, Jesse allowed himself a smile, turning back to face Angela as he began eating.

“At least they’ve got snow.” Angela sighed wistfully, her eyes growing distant as she pictured the other Overwatch station. “Torbjorn won’t like it-makes everything rust, with the greater humidity.”

“He’s got the right idea of it. Snow’s overrated.” Jesse shrugged, settling against the counter. “So’s winter, generally.”

“It’s not so bad. The season itself is beautiful, I think.”

“Uh-huh. Because everyone likes runnin’ around, squawkin’ nonsense about ‘goodwill’, and buyin’ way too much for their own good. Beautiful season, alright.” Jesse snorted derisively, shaking his head. “And you gotta suffer snow and wind and rain on top of it. Give me summertime any day.”

“You’re not a fan of Christmas, I see.” Angela propped herself up, hopping onto the counter to swing her legs gently. “I suppose we can’t make you enjoy it.”

“Right. So don’t bother tryin’.”

“You were like this even before the rift. Such a….downcast little cowboy.” Angela smiled, but found her attempt at humor falling flat as Jesse glared at her. “Ah.”

“Before the rift, no one gave a rat’s ass about this nonsense. Maybe it was different for you folks, but Blackwatch didn’t get distracted. Reyes especially didn’t let himself…well. Anyway. It didn’t matter.”

“We’re still human, Jesse-most of us, anyway. We’re allowed to have holidays we love, and celebrate.”

“Sure, sure. All I’m sayin’ is, this kind of institutional housekeeping is just nannyin’ in a different form! Jack and Ana’ve gotten too sentimental in their golden years. They’d rather play house than do their real jobs.”

“Jesse! You know that’s not true, and frankly, I’m surprised to hear you say so!”

“You’ve seen ‘em! Coddling Lena like she’s their pet, and preparing those packages for Hana-they’re soldiers, not cute little nieces and nephews! At least Fareeha tries to keep them on track, but even there she-“

“What do you have against it, Jesse? We’re stuck until we can track down Talon’s movements, and Winston’s doing his best to uncover other agents in the meantime. We are doing things. We’re working. Are you going to begrudge us this-this-“ Frustrated by the language, Angela swore under her breath. “This little bit of happiness? A chance to remember, maybe, and come together-“

“Maybe I don’t wanna remember anythin’, Angela! Maybe I don’t wanna sit on my ass watching everyone forget their missions just t’ get lost in the past! Dreamin’ ain’t gonna do any of us a lick ‘f good, and the sooner they realize that, the better!”

“It isn’t your place to decide, Jesse, and you can’t make us-“

“Damn it, Angela, I’m not tryin’ to make anyone do a damn thing-forget it. Just forget it. I’ll be on the range, if anyone gets their head out of their ass and decides to work on somethin’ worthwhile.” Tossing his half-eaten sandwich back on the counter, Jesse stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Angela to watch in surprise and disappointment as he disappeared. Finally, after her heartbeat settled, she got down off the counter, sweeping the crumbs into the sink before pouring out Jesse’s unfinished coffee. She’d tried. She really had. But if Jesse didn’t want to participate, then she couldn’t force him.

She just didn’t have enough information. She’d only met him on occasion, never spent real time with him before the rift. Jack and Ana had always been happy to entertain these holiday events, even if they weren’t as eager as they were nowadays. Overwatch had been a happy place, the closest thing to a family people like them could find, and holidays were happy times. Maybe Blackwatch had been different. But none of those agents had appeared, aside from Jesse, and she hadn’t been allowed to get a sense of what their sister organization had been like.

Still. She could only do her best. Jesse could have his space, even if it obviously left him angry and upset. And she’d only get him a generic card, if that’s what he wanted-just to explain herself.

She just wished she could find a better way to help.


	2. McCree

Reloading the Peacekeeper, Jesse readjusted his stance, watching the piles of robot scrap whine softly in vain attempts to recover. The robots were good, sure, but they didn’t usually stand up to the pressures of a real battle. Already he could see the maintenance arms reaching out to sweep the old bots aside, and the doors opening to let new target bots take their place. With the ease of years of practice, Jesse rolled to one side, adjusting his angle to hit the vital points on the necks of the blocky bots. As he moved, he stretched his left hand, wincing at the pain-the cold had made the metal tight and unresponsive, biting into his skin, but he’d pushed through it to focus on his shots.

One robot down. Another emerged from another door, almost- _almost_ -taking him by surprise, but he turned the reaction into a smooth movement up to hit both optic cores square on, leaving the bot to flounder into its comrades.

Easy stuff, really. He’d made a big deal out of this practice to Angela, but the truth of it was, there wasn’t anything he could practice here that he didn’t already have memorized.

 _Reyes would never have tolerated it_.

Gritting his teeth, Jesse ducked into another roll, popping up between two bots to hit them both squarely in the chest. Another shot went wide, leaving his gun empty, and he tucked it into his holster before leaping at the closest bot.

Hand-to-hand, there. That was more like it. The rough steel wouldn’t give, so he’d have to be clever about it. Cling to the thing, so it couldn’t get a bead on him-find the switch on its neck to change the setting, then hold tight like you’re riding a bronco. Aha!

A quick swing made his head spin, but he used the momentum to keep the bot off balance as he used it to block the shots from its teammates. Unbidden, the movement made him think of a similar encounter, back when he was much younger and much, much smaller.

_“Take it, hijo de puta! You know you’ll get what’s coming!”_

_Jesse already had a black eye and a sharp pain in his side, but the older boys wouldn’t stop. They knew how much the little rat could take, and they could always stop just before it got too bad. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, though._

_“The little bastardo sorry he can’t steal from our poor mamas? Tryin’ to beg off our innocent mamas? They know you, rat, and they won’t give you anything!” A round of laughter as Jesse was shaken off, a punch landing on his solar plexus to leave him winded._

_“Our poor mamas, our poor sisters-we’ve just got t’ protect our girls, chico.” The shortest one, the one closest to Jesse’s size, moved forward to grab Jesse’s collar, tossing him forward to fall against the ground. “No one wants you around here.”_

_It wasn’t worth it to speak. They’d tire themselves out eventually._

“Would you like me to change the mode, Mr. McCree?” Athena’s soft voice rang out, interrupting Jesse. He snarled, but leapt off the robot to respond.

“Go ahead. I need something squishier.” As he spoke, the current robots stopped firing to begin gliding away, the ports opening to let smaller, flesh-toned robots drift forward.

_The chill stung against the cuts on his head. Even the stalls on the corners had closed early, because of the holiday. He’d had to clean up under the bridge, scrubbing the cuts as he cursed._

These robots knew their business. They still fought like boxers, though, lunging and feinting with mechanical precision. It was simplicity itself to bring them down in turn. Like clockwork.

_Everyone had lit their candles, and the streets were thick with the scent of cooking meat. Jesse’s stomach reminded him sharply of his hunger, but he managed to ignore the pain as he walked. Choosing between the cold or the hunger was an easy choice. At least the cold gave some variation._

The ol’ one-two. The robots were tougher, granted, and they didn’t have legs. Still, Jesse knew enough to batter them down, and he was quick enough to avoid letting them gang up on him. Movement was key, and he knew most human opponents underestimated his speed. As he’d gained muscle, he’d been careful to maintain his agility, and even now, he could still keep up with boys half his age. It made him dangerous.

_The Mass had ended, letting everyone head back home, and Jesse knew the old priest himself would be busy with an evening meal. Wandering through the back street, Jesse came to the door, knocking once before standing straight. With any luck, Senora Perez would have gone home too, and-_

_“What do you want, rat?”_

_Damn. The old bitch was there, glaring down at him with pure malice._

_“Please, senora, I just-“_

_“You aren’t going to be disturbing the father tonight! He’s very tired, and I’ve got no leftovers.”_

_Behind her, Jesse could see the father’s kitchen calico lapping at a small bowl, the rich colors of kidneys and liver meat visible in the dish. Bracing himself again, Jesse met Senora Perez’s eyes, making himself look as small as possible._

_“Please, bella dama, I’ll take the heart, the giblets, even the littlest part-“_

_“No! One does not give leave to the devil on the night of our Savior’s birth. Go away.” With a slam, the kitchen door closed once more, and Jesse stumbled back to lean against the wall behind him. So much for charity, then._

With a vicious twist, Jesse managed to nearly decapitate one of the melee robots, leaving it to spark and sputter as it tried to right itself.

_“Bastard.”_

A solid kick to the back of a robot-it fell against another, whirling angrily.

_“Diablo.”_

A punch that went too far, letting Jesse pull the robot off balance and land a solid hit to the underside of the head.

“ _Little rat._ ”

Spinning instinctively, Jesse caught the arm of another robot as it came toward him, and pulled it forward before slamming into it, screaming incoherently as he absorbed the impact, then watched it fall. Finally, he leapt aside, calling out as he paused.

“Athena! End the round. I’m done for the day.”

“Of course, Mr. McCree. Thank you for using our practice range.” As one, the robots all powered down in order to glide back to their ports, the range suddenly quiet with their absence. Jesse let himself catch his breath, the ache of his shoulders where a stray punch had gotten through finally catching his attention. After one final survey of the arena, Jesse turned to head back inside, rubbing the back of his neck to prevent the muscles stiffening too quickly.

“And Mr. McCree: Happy holidays.” The neutral voice of Athena chimed, making Jesse scowl once more as the door slid closed behind him.

“Happy holidays. Sure. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”


	3. Sombra

In stark contrast to the customs of the Overwatch heroes, Talon’s headquarters rarely saw any use of “civilian dress”-Sombra had tried, on occasion, to experiment with t-shirts and jeans, but it didn’t even get a reaction. Reaper-Reyes, whichever-had only glanced at her once; honestly, it was Widow who even offered the smallest sneer. Still, with their identities as agents totally absorbed in the infrastructure of Talon itself, the three of them spent almost all their waking hours in the facility, and as such, Sombra had no qualms about wearing a fluffy Santa hat to one of the weekly meetings.

Fortunately, the hat got more of a reaction. One of the cute little secretaries had smiled at the sight, but quickly wiped the expression off her face as Reaper appeared. Reaper himself hadn’t said anything until they’d seated themselves at the table, at which point his normal introductions gave way to silent staring.

Sombra had felt it necessary to defend herself. “What? It’s a seasonal thing.”

“It looks ridiculous.”

Sombra tossed the pom-pom over her shoulder. “At least I didn’t change my hair to match. Would that be too much self-expression for you?” With her implanted hand, she reached out and into the table, pulling up a holographic snowstorm to fill the room with dancing flakes. Both Reaper and Widowmaker sat silent, their serious stances at odds with the playful snowstorm around them, and Sombra had to grin as the lights finally died.

“That’s enough.”

“Aw, jefe, it was fun.”

“This isn’t about ‘fun’.” Reaper’s gravelly voice filled the tiny room, replacing the joy of the snowflakes.  “We’re doing our jobs.”

“When we’re eating, sleeping, and breathing Talon, they have to allow us some leeway, don’t they? They’re giving you the day, right? Even if you don’t celebrate, they’re at least pretending that you do. Why not take advantage of it?”

Again, both Widowmaker and Reaper sat silent, watching the hacker evenly. Sombra could feel the resistance in the room, but decided to push one more time, letting a small strand of holographic Christmas lights string themselves across the table.

“C’mon. Have a little fun. Raid a hospital, or something. That could be fun. We should _celebrate_.”

“We don’t-“

“We no longer-“

“ ** _Celebrate_.** ” Both Widowmaker and Reaper finished in unison, glaring at Sombra. If they assumed their personalities would have any effect on the determined hacker, their assumptions were proven very wrong as she leaned back in her chair to prop her legs against the table.

“Ah. So you guys did celebrate, once. I’m sure we could find some hot chocolate. Some of those little cookies. I dunno, what did you do in France-“

“Shut _up_.” Widowmaker stood, slamming both hands against the table. “Reaper, do something.”

“Sombra, that’s _enough_.”

“Lo siento, was that too much? Well, jefe, what did you do? I bet you had a lovely little house, a cozy fire-oh, did you sing carols? That must have been wonderful, the church choir all gathered together in their satin-“

“Sombra-“

“It’s a happy time! We should be planning a party! We could convince enough of the lower staff to join, they could run out and get all the supplies we need. It’s been a while since I’ve had good punch. Oh, I bet we could even get a file of the Nutcracker film, isn’t that supposed to be good?”

“Bitch.” Widowmaker spat, her hands balling into fists.

“All the little fairies, dancing around, and the little Nutcracker man-“

“Va te faire foutre!” Widowmaker pushed past the table, storming to the door to escape the tiny room. Reaper stood, and for the first time, Sombra could sense the slightest bit of indecision as he looked to the open door.

“You go too far, Sombra.”

“If we’re not going to do any serious missions, then you have to give me something to do.”

“Antagonizing your partner is not going to help.”

“You know what I am, Reaper. I don’t exist to make things work right. I exist to make them work _wrong_.” With a wave, Sombra disappeared into the data stream of the table, hopping across networks to return to her own room. The projection had spat her out just above the bed, letting her bounce slightly, and she paused for a moment. Despite months of not wearing them, her t-shirts and pants still hung in her closet, and she pulled on the most festive of her outfits before jumping back into the stream. Reaper wouldn’t be able to find her now, and he’d be too wrapped up with Widowmaker to put up too much of a search for her. Escaping Talon’s firewalls was easy enough, and as Sombra deposited herself in the office that acted as Talon’s front, she put on a confident smile, and exited out onto the street.


	4. Sombra

One cup of hot cocoa later, and with hair tucked beneath another Santa hat, Sombra watched the people wandering along the streets of the quaint Mediterranean town, laughing to each other. Though the weather was relatively calm, they still wore scarves and boots, and Sombra smiled faintly to imagine Amelie wearing such fashion-forward items.

Ah, not Amelie-Widowmaker. Wonder how the meeting would have gone if she’d used their old names?

This was her favorite part of the season. She knew Widow would crack easily. The old Amelie was so soft, so gentle-breaking Widow was much more fun. The Nutcracker jibe she was especially proud of. Oh, Talon still had recordings, highlighting the beautiful Amelie Michel (nee Lacroix) in all her routines, her star performances: Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, Cinderella. How elegant. How refined. How poised. Talon had taken that all from her when the conditioning started.

Oh, Widowmaker was still elegant, sure. But Talon had taken off all the soft curves of her personality, refined her into a pointed, sharp weapon. Breaking that apart, now-that was the true measure of the season, for Sombra.

_The arm around her squeezed tight as Rafael laughed, his rivals at the table chuckling uncomfortably. Sombra-who she was then, that nothing girl she’d erased-laughed with him, her fingernails stroking his chest lazily as he took another drink._

_“So, chicos, it’s time to party! Relax! C’mon!”_

_She could see their fear, their terror-even the other girls were on edge. Rafael wasn’t the most stable of bosses, sure, but they’d learn. He wasn’t the one to be worried about._

_“Ah, Selena! You look so cute in that dress! Did your mama hem it for you-or was she too busy?” Sombra smiled as the other girl shivered, forced to grin as Selena’s companion pulled her close. “You know, I saw the mayor stopping by the other night. You’d think he could buy you something more worthwhile. He knows you have to wear that more than once, right?”_

_Another ripple of laughter. Selena’s face had frozen now, locked in a grin of terror. No one had known about the mayor. He was always so careful about his visits-but Sombra knew. She knew everything._

Across the street, a couple paused to kiss under a streetlight. The day was still young, and the streetlight wasn’t on, but the setting was apparently enough to inspire a romantic mood. Stirring her chocolate, Sombra smiled, hearing the faintest strains of singing from a nearby church.

_“Padre! You have blessed us with your presence! Many thanks to you.”_

_“May the Lord keep you in this blessed season, my child.” The old priest had nodded, completely overlooking Sombra’s presence in the corner. In front of him, the decorated general laughed heartily, nodding. Clinging to Jose’s arm, Sombra had wandered close, eyes wide in mock adoration of the general’s medals._

_“Jose, look! A general!”_

_“Too right, too right, bonita. I’m sure you love the shiny medals.”_

_“They are impressive. You must be rich, and powerful, with so many medals.” Sombra fluttered her lashes, releasing Jose’s arm. “Would be a shame if your wife realized how many were stolen.”_

_“What? You idiot girl, I didn’t-“_

_“Aw, pobrecito.” Sombra kept her eyes wide, smiling. “She only married you for the glitter, hm? Still. So many lovely letters from the higher-ups about who got what. Senora Cabrera would be heartbroken if she happened to get someone else’s mail. Not to mention the pain all those other generals would feel when they got the same letter. That would just be so sad!”_

_The general’s eyes had hardened, black as flint. The stupid priest had been too slow to notice anything, nodding along with his gummy smile._

_The children had sung so beautifully when the general made the payments._

Packages piled up in shoppers’ hands as they wandered the streets, laughing to each other. Children ran through, shrieking as they collided with each other in their games. What a happy season. A time for family, and for being together.

_Gerard had been resistant. Oh, he was so close to Overwatch, so closely connected. Just one node in the larger chain._

_“They’re doing so well at school, Gerard. You don’t mind if I call you Gerard, do you? Your sister is so proud, and little Benjamin is getting so tall now. His mother lets him wander by himself, just his friends and his monitor. His monitor keeps him safe, doesn’t it?”_

_“Don’t touch them, you monsters, you stay away from my sister-“_

_“Oh we will, we will!” Sombra had cradled his chin, feeling his tension. His wife was just on the other side of the wall, chatting easily to one of Gerard’s work buddies. So peaceful. So innocent. “As long as you cooperate.”_

_“You can’t drag innocent children into this, you-“_

_“Innocent children grow up into guilty adults. I was one once, remember. Give them a few years, and then you’ll see.” She’d already had her implant, disappearing into the network to leave Gerard shaken and confused. She could watch as he rejoined the party, clinging to Amelie as he tried to fake a smile._

_A time for family. A time to celebrate._

“A time for everyone to come together.” Sombra stood, tossing away her paper cup now that the cocoa was finished, and sauntered off down the street to look at the festive windows. How lovely, the paper displays of happy families and cheerful couples. How delicate and sweet.

Only she recognized that reality was just as fragile as these paper portraits. Just as easy to paint, and just as easy to tear apart.


	5. Reunion

Jesse grimaced as he pulled the scarf tighter, trying to stave off the wind. Usually he wouldn’t complain so much about the cold, but his mood was not a kindly one. The wind from the sea made him shiver, but he waited all the same, glancing at the clock tower in the center of town as the minutes passed. The car he’d rented was hidden a few alleys over, but he couldn’t afford waiting inside it-who knows if the license plate would have betrayed his starting city? Tracking him back to Overwatch would be such an obvious mistake, and he could at least make it difficult rather than spelling it out with his transportation choices.

As the clock chimed the half-hour, he spotted a figure running down the street, her hat bobbing with her movements. As she approached, out of breath, she offered a small smile, waving with her free hand.

“Sombra. You made it.”

“Of course, cowboy. My bosses can’t keep me chained for long.” Holding out a small box, Sombra stepped forward to offer it to Jesse. “Here.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” In response, Jesse pulled out a jewelry box from his coat, handing it to Sombra as he accepted her gift. “To the season?”

“To the season.”

Neither opened their gifts, but nodded in appreciation. For a moment, silence stretched on, and Sombra finally raised a hand in farewell again.

“You better not have gotten me some crappy charm bracelet.”

“If you got me a fake lasso, that’d just be uncreative.”

“Better luck next year, cowboy.”

“You’re welcome to try again.” Jesse offered a grin as Sombra disappeared into motes of sparkling light, waiting until the sparkles finally died out. He’d never bring the box back to the Overwatch base-he couldn’t be sure who Sombra was working for, and that kind of compromise would be too much if someone did get inside the base-but the gift itself was nice. A small token, from someone who hated the season as much as he did. Even if they were no longer “agent” and “contact”, they still had the same amount of affection for each other.

As horrible as the season might be, at least someone else understood.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I fudged the official timelines a bit so that Sombra and McCree know each other-basically, Sombra was one of McCree's information contacts just before Blackwatch/Overwatch imploded, and he doesn't know that she works for Talon now. Thus, they have some background, but not enough to risk anything for the other. Comments, reviews, or questions all appreciated.


End file.
